Days In Thedas
by Defiant.Anjeru
Summary: Drabble type of thing, consisting of many characters in the DA-verse, ranging from Origins to DA2. Many pairings forthcoming, many adventures to be had, after all - every day in Thedas is an adventure! Chapter 12 - a Warden's troubles when it comes to looting.
1. Trinkets: MaharielAlistair

**A/N: **I started doing those 10 minute challenges, drabbles, and vignettes, took them down, but decided to reload them since I am now doing more - ranging from DA:O-DA2. Reviews are awesome! And muchly appreciated!

**Trinkets**

* * *

Serendipity Mahariel huffed as she walked into her tent and sat, with her legs criss cross and her hands on her ankles. _**Another**_ of her trinkets had gone missing. Trinkets she had picked up in their travels to give to her fellow warden, one that had been there for her since the very beginning; it was too soon, with too much going on, to tell the shemlen that she was certain she was falling in love with him. It was because of that she had been picking out small things that had enraptured her, so that she could give them to him in hopes that he would realize that she'd been thinking of him.

Yet, every time, without fail, she would place the trinket in some inconspicuous place in her tent, go to sleep, and wake up to find it gone again.

With a sigh she fingered the small flower in her hand, brushing her battle hardened hands over the exquisitely soft petals. Alistair had told her it was a rose; though she had traveled with her clan, she had never stumbled upon such a flower. It was the most beautiful thing she'd seen and, as embarrassed as she would be to admit it, Alistair was the most handsome shemlen she'd ever seen; not that she had seen many in her sheltered life.

She placed the flower down beside her humble pillow and lay down beneath her meager blanket, slipping off her boots and kicking them out. With another soft sigh, she let her lashes flutter shut and fell into a deep sleep.

It was a slight shuffle of noise that awoke her, eyes cracking open to see her Mabari hound – Knight, the one who'd escaped the massacre at Ostagaar, only to find her and imprint on her – gathering the rose into his mouth. He turned and moved from the tent, Mahariel leaning up and crawling toward the flap to see what it was that her hound was doing.

Alistair was sitting beside the fire, alone, his face somber. Her heart fluttered nervously and she couldn't help but admire his handsomeness as the light of the fire flickered over his features. Knight trotted up to Alistair and placed the rose on his bent knee.

"What is this, boy?" Alistair asked, holding the rose and admiring it. The hound whined and turned his head toward her tent, causing Mahariel to duck back in when the object of her affection turned to look. She never saw the smile that graced Alistair's lips, or the way he held the rose to his chest affectionately.

"It makes me happier than you know, boy, to know she's thinking of me." Or those soft words he murmured as he scratched the hound's head in appreciation.


	2. Changes: TabrisZevran

**A/N:** I took these down, but decided to put them back up, since I have been writing more. My place for 10 min challenges, drabbles, vignettes, all consisting of the DA-verse, ranging from Dragon Age Origins to Dragon Age 2. All reviews are appreciated! :)

**Changes**

* * *

The young elven girl had him pinned to the ground with a boot on his chest, a scowl marring her quite exquisite features. Zevran knew they were discussing what to do with him, but he couldn't focus in on that, not when those strikingly iridescent blue eyes were glittering down at him. Her oval face was framed by sun hued auburn hair, clipped short to her chin, elven ears poking from the sides of her head, pierced multiple times; her body was as marvelous, small, trim, lithe, tan and all womanly and curved. Zevran, who'd had many a woman in his days, had never seen a more exquisite creature in his entire life.

"You want to take the assassin with us now?" He heard the blonde man snap out irritably.

"Why not?" The woman said with a grin that turned the elven assassin's gut into fluttering butterflies.

"Well, duh, he just tried to kill us!"

"We took you along didn't we?" A dark haired mage said, with a glint of mischief twinkling in her own eyes.

"Oooh, like I didn't see that one coming," he scowled, folding his arms.

"Well, what say you?" The beautiful creature asked, her voice as lovely as the rest of her, as she turned to look at him again.

Zevran stared at her for a long moment, still pinned beneath her foot, and found an answering smile threatening to sneak over his lips. Never before had the elf assassin been so charmed by his target; it was always worm your way in, kill without remorse, and never look back. As he stared at her, he knew that if he said no, the little spit fire would not hesitate to end him, but if he said yes…well, that would be a death sentence in itself. Betrayal of the Crows was unheard of, at least when the deserter _didn't_ end up dead.

He'd never loved. He'd never trusted. But, as he stared back into those mesmerizing eyes, not giving an inch, he felt something in him shift, like maybe – just maybe – it _could_ be different. Change was good, was it not? He mused.

With a grin breaking out over his handsome face, he took the offered hand of the elven woman and let her pull him up to his feet. "My name is Zevran Arrianni, it would be my pleasure to accompany a woman of such beauty," he purred, kissing her knuckles.

As a smile graced her face, a soft tint of pink tinting her cheeks, he honestly thought that this change would be the most changing of all; little did he know how right he'd been. That lovely warden had changed his life forever.


	3. Only Human: HawkeAnders

**Only Human**

* * *

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, he noticed, hands folded and eyes empty as she peered into the flickering flames of the fire. She looked defeated, something he had never seen in her before. He would have thought that being made the Champion of Kirkwall would have lifted her spirits, instead, it only seemed to plunge them further into the depths. He couldn't blame her, not at all; only two nights before, her mother had been murdered by a blood mage and his insanity. And it worried him, that it would turn her against her kind and the mages of Kirkwall would be far more doomed than they already had been.

It sickened him that he was thinking selfishly, even now. It was clear she needed him, or someone. The Champion had hit her limit.

He slowly approached the bed, sitting quietly beside her. If she noticed, she made no indication. She continued to stare at the fire, her expression blank, eyes hauling shadows beneath themselves.

"Hawke?"

She didn't say anything for a long moment, and then she slowly turned her head to look at him. That same look stayed plastered on her face and he was reminded of a doll, features perfect, pristine…forever frozen. "Anders." Her voice was soft, barely auditable in the silence of the room.

She was broken, tired, and so weary. He could see it as he looked into her eyes. Even the Champion wasn't invincible. In the end, she was as human as the rest of them.


	4. Needs: CouslandAlistair

**A/N: **Idea given to me by Hatsepsut, so enjoy. Awkwardness abound, mild mental torture. Humorous. Last bit is for cookies!

**Needs**

* * *

Alistair fidgeted slightly where he sat beside the fire, looking around him cautiously; he really needed to go find a bush, take care of business, but Sarah Cousland seemed to have ideas on keeping him occupied. What they had been talking about, he couldn't recall; mouth moved on its own, as his more base need was foremost in his mind.

"Alistair?" Cousland leaned in closer, placing a hand on his thigh that had him nearly reeling. "Are you listening to me?" Her blue eyes twinkled up at him, a smile over her lips. Lips he suddenly found himself unable to stop gazing at.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, must have wandered off a bit…" He subtly drew his thigh away, a slight gesture that made it as if he were simply re-situating. Maker, he needed to pee.

He went to make an excuse for a moment of privacy when Cousland licked her lips and tucked hair behind her ear, subtly drawing her hand along her throat and then arching as she stretched almost liquidly. Maker help him, but now he had to pee _and_ had an erection. She smiled, almost coyly, resting a hand on his arm as she leaned in, saying something, but he wasn't paying attention, body warring desperately over which thing was in need of more immediate attention.

"Alistair!" She tapped his nose with a fingertip, giggling. "You're doing it again."

"Sorry," he mumbled lamely.

Cousland leaned in even closer, her face drawing so close to his that he almost shuddered, her close presence making him acutely aware of his problem. Or rather both of them.

Alistair swallowed hard at the close contact, Cousland's lips just a breath away from his.

"I really need..." he stuttered.

"Yes?" her throaty voice answered him. "What do you need, Alistair? Tell me."

"I need to...siphon the python," he mumbled.

"What?" She drew back and arched a brow in question, clearly lost.

Alistair felt his face flame up.

"Shake the dew off the lily..."

"Alistair…What are you talking about?"

"Pee, WOMAN, I need to PEE!"


	5. Discovery

**Discovery**

* * *

They all had been drinking too much, they knew that, but they just didn't seem to care. Not when Hawke had just been declared the Champion of Kirkwall. Varric and Hawke had declared a time for celebration and the party had been moved to the Hanged Man where they had all gorged on the Tavern's disgusting, yet effective, ale.

Hawke whooped as she jumped onto the table. "You should'a seen the look in his eye when tiny little old me moved in for the kill!" She exclaimed. "Huzzah!"

"That's our Champion!" Varric chuckled, tipping slightly as he moved to sit back down at the table.

"Mmm, our Champion indeed," Isabela purred as she climbed up onto the table, pulling a tipsy Hawke into her arms and planting a very passionate kiss on her fellow rogue's lips. All the noise in the bar ceased as all men, and women, stopped to gawk at the two as their mouths melded together. After a long moment, Isabela pulled back and chuckled at Hawke's dazed expression. "My gift to you, lovely."

"Maker, do it again." Merrill sighed, her cheeks rosy red and eyes glazed.

"Oh? I believe the kitten wants in as well," Isabela chuckled as she brought Merrill up onto the table and proceeded to do the same to the mage as she'd done to Hawke.

Varric looked at the others and found all the men in their group fixated on the women. When Anders caught him looking, the mage blushed and leaned in close. "We need to get them drunk more often," he whispered.

"No argument from me, Blondie."

"None here either…" came a mumble, and they both looked over to see Fenris giving them a nod.


	6. Sticking to Your Strengths: Hawke

Sticking to Your Strengths

* * *

"You can't flirt."

"Excuse me?" She replied with shock evident in her voice.

"Wait, no, you _can_ flirt, just not…well."

"Wanna bet on it?" Hawke narrowed her eyes at the dwarf, knowing damn well Varric could never pass up on a good bet.

The dwarf smirked. "5 sovereigns – next helpless man who walks through the door."

"You're on." She took the amount of coin from her purse and slapped it onto the table, watching as Varric did the same. Then they both sat back with their tankards in their hands, sipping at ale as they awaited her prey.

"No – wait, that's not fair!" Hawke exclaimed as, of all people, Sebastian Veal walked through the door.

"Tsk, we agreed. Now get to it!" Varric chuckled, secure in the knowledge the bet was definitely in his favor.

Hawke grumbled and downed her ale, before shoving away from the table. She straightened her robes and with a confident smirk, she called out to the Prince and, when she had gotten his attention, sashayed her way toward him. Varric frowned thoughtfully as Veal's eyes locked on Hawke's swaying hips.

Minutes ticked by of them conversing, Hawke leaning in to whisper things, fingers trailing over the man's arm. He watched as the Prince swallowed. Finally, the Prince's mouth fell open and his eyes widened; Varric couldn't help but chuckle as the Prince stuttered, before backing away and bolting from the tavern.

Hawke trudged back toward the table, grumbling every inch of the way.

"Good game, Hawke. Thought you had me there for a moment," he grinned as he scooped up his winnings. "Better stick to your strengths."

"Bite me."


	7. Only Hawke

It was like watching liquid water, the way she moved. Such finesse. She would flip her body, fluidly, and slash her dagger across a throat with astounding precision. Watching her move was like art itself; he could see why poets could be inspired by women. She danced, jumping from tip of her toes to leap a gap between her foes, a dagger digging deeply into the gut of one, before she slid it free easily, dancing away. A dainty wrist would bend, flicking a blade across the expanse to bury itself within a man's eye. Even covered in blood, she was a vision, slipping through the shadows like darkness itself.

He couldn't tear his eyes away.

And when the last foe fell, she turned to him and flashed a brilliant grin. Of victory and triumph.

She started forth with the infallible grace and he watched as her body sashayed like fluidity embodied.

So when she hit her foot on the leg of a dead foe, and proceeded to stumble with limbs all flailing, his eyes widened. She fell forward, a face plant on the chest of her dead enemy and while he should have stepped forward to offer her his hand, he didn't and instead burst into loud laughter.

Maker, only she could be a master at battle and yet be such a klutz in the day to day. Only Hawke.


	8. Sweet Tooth: HawkeAnders

**A/N: **This is **_way overdue_** request made by Hatsepsut. For you dear! Sorry I never got around to it 'til now.

**Sweet Tooth**

* * *

Hawke shuffled through the cupboards. Tossing things that were unappealing, which was, well, pretty much everything. She had a craving. And she wasn't going to stop until it was filled. It was gnawing at her bit by bit, until it was all she could think about. Not even the flour incident slowed her down.

"Hawke?"

She popped her head out of a chest, eyes seeking out Anders where he stood in the doorway, a perplexed expression on his face. "Hm?"

His eyes widened slightly, taking in her disheveled appearance and the fact that she was covered head to toe in flour. "What are you doing?" He asked cautiously.

She pursed her lips together before dropping her head back into the chest, tossing out another bag of flour that, miraculously, didn't explode this time. "Hankering for sweets," she mumbled.

"You have a sweet tooth?" He laughed softly. _That's_ what this disaster in her larder was all about?

"What of it?" She snapped, almost insulted.

"Why not just...bake something yourself?" He supplied.

"Oh yes, why didn't I think of that?" She scoffed. "Don't know how."

"You can't cook?" He asked incredulously; she could take out an ogre, she could defeat a dragon, she could tame the spirit of vengeance within him, beat a qunari army, stand up to the Knight-Commander, but...she _couldn't _cook.

"No," she huffed.

"Would you like me to bake you something?" He offered. At long last he'd discovered something he could do for her that she couldn't do for herself.

"Would you really?" She exclaimed as she popped back out of the chest, a grin on her face.

"Anything for you, Hawke," he chuckled. Who would have thought? The indomitable warrior, their fearless leader, had a sweet tooth.


	9. Justice's Perception

Occasionally one of her companions would stop by the mansion to admire her Mabari hound. Or speak with the old boy. Hawke would usually just watch on with a bit of amusement(especially when Varric had come by).

"**You lack freedom. It is unjust." **

Hawke's brows rose nearly into her hair. She peeked her head out from her study to see the glowing blue figure of Anders – which meant it was Justice not the healer.

Knight merely growled at the spirit as if his words were insulting.

"**You should be free to do as you please. Not be a slave to the one known as Hawke." **

Knight growled again and shook his head.

"**You are clearly an intelligent creature."**

The Mabari hopped around with a happy bark.

"**You stay here willingly, then?"**

He barked happily once more. Then trotted past Justice to her side where she stood in the doorway. She couldn't help but chuckle as she patted Knight's head affectionately. The blue glow faded from Justice and when he turned, it was Anders staring at her.

He grinned, almost sheepishly. "Uh – hey."

Hawke's lips pulled up into a slightly amused smirk. "Justice thinks I'm a slaver now?"

"Ah - " Anders rubbed the back of his neck with a small laugh. "I had a conversation with him once sort of like this. He believed I had enslaved my cat."

Hawke could only shake her head with a laugh.


	10. Snow Bet

Hawke squealed as a ball of fluffy white snow went sailing over her head. Maker that was too close! Her fingers tingled, nearly frozen, but she reached down and scooped up some of the white powder, rolling into a ball before she wheeled her arm back and sent it flying across the courtyard.

She whooped in victory as it hit its target, the very stunned face of her dwarven friend, Varric.

"Not fair!" Varric yelled out, swiping the snow off his face. "You can move faster than me!"

"Oh don't you dare start with the whole _your legs are longer, you can move faster _bs!" Hawke scoffed. "The bet was who would get the snow in their face first."

"Bianca says your an unfair, biased cheat!" He pouted, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Hey!" She stomped over to him, her boots crunching in the snow. "I don't really care what your jealous girlfriend has to say in your defense." She grinned and held out her hand. "I won fair and square. Pay up."

He grumbled, but in the end placed the gold coins in her hand. "Cheater."

"Varric my friend! I learn from the best!" She grinned wider and pocketed the coins. "A piece of advice? You would be better off...sticking to your strengths."

His eyes widened, then he too grinned wide. "Bite me, Hawke."

He'd made a bet with her that she couldn't flirt, and she'd lost, but as they said, revenge was a bitch.


	11. Rivalry: Carver

**Carver – Rivalry**

* * *

Carver grumbled angrily as the sun filtered in through the window to wake him.

_Sun, rivalry +25. _

He rolled over, put the sun to his back, and tried to get back to sleep. Just as he was starting to doze off, his brother's mabari hound – Knight – began barking at Maker only knows what.

_Hawke, rivalry +10. _

It didn't make sense to blame his brother for the hound's barking, at least if thinking about it logically, but if his brother had not been born, then they may have never had the mutt. His brother's voice followed soon after, commanding the hound to cease. Carver was thankful for the silence.

_Hawke, rivalry +5. _

He managed another hour of sleep before his brother roused him for his help on an errand. He groused through the entirety of it, especially since his brother decided to bring that stupid mage with them. Anders was his name, and just another person to have around to increase their risk of being hunted by the Templars, as if his brother being a mage wasn't reason enough.

He tripped over a rock, much to his displeasure, as they trounced up Sundermount.

_Rock, rivalry +50._

Anders had the gall to laugh, as did his brother. And that blight dwarf.

_Anders, rivalry +25._

_Hawke, rivalry +25._

_Varric, rivalry +25. _

He really did not like being laughed at. But at least the day wasn't a total waste. The mage they recruited from the Dalish elves was cute and innocently sweet. He could have sworn he was smitten the moment they met.

_Merrill, friendship +100._

Suddenly the day seemed perfect, and he couldn't have been in a better mood for the rest of it.

That was until the next morning when the sun returned to wake him far more early than he would have liked.

_Sun, rivalry +25. _

With a grumble, he rolled over and chose to ignore it.


	12. The Trouble With Looting

**The Trouble With Looting**

******Disclaimer: **Bioware owns DA. I'm just having fun.

* * *

Sarah Cousland eyed the dead warriors armor with a calculating glance; they'd been trouncing about the country side for some time now, without a shop in sight(or a traveling merchant), and thus their armor was becoming sorely...out of date. But these men, they'd been more than prepared to take down the 'rogue' grey wardens in their shimmering – perhaps brand new – armor. Their swords had been sharp; worthy blades indeed.

She could feel herself salivating.

Her palms itched.

To think – free equipment! Sure, she had to take them off dead bodies, but it wasn't like they were going to need the goods now.

Her feet carried her quickly to the side of one body and she was about to kneel down and inspect the corpse when Alistair's voice interrupted her – "do you need something?"

Huh?

She blinked and stood, shaking her head. He nodded and turned away. Once again, she knelt down to inspect, only to hear – "do you need something?"

"What?"

"Do you need something?" Alistair asked again.

"Uh...no?"

He nodded, turning away. She narrowed her eyes and knelt down _once more _to inspect the armor of their dead foes only to hear – "do you need something?"

"_Andraste's flaming knickers! Maker smite you down if you interrupt me one more time Alistair, NO! I don't NEED anything expect that shiny armor!_"

He blinked, taken aback, no doubt surprised at her outburst.

She narrowed her eyes carefully, assessing him, waiting; he turned away and she knelt, slowly. Very slowly, inch by inch. Just when she reached out, he asked – "do you need something?"

It was said that the future king of Ferelden was forever remembered for the girlish scream he belted out underneath the Warden's great fury that day. The lesson? Never get in the way of looting.


End file.
